


Of Moral Obligations and Occupational Priorities

by mobilisinmobili



Series: Double-0-Everything and Nothing at All [1]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, BAMF Alex Rider, Bad Decisions, Bad Parenting, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, Late Night Conversations, References to Depression, Revenge, Teenage Rebellion, Tom Harris Needs a Hug, Trust Issues, Tulip Jones Has a Heart, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24303664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: Starting year twelve in a new school was already stressful enough without the expected heavy course load. Having to continue to live between his parents’ never-ending scream fests and fights was just the push he needed to really start to spiral.It just so happened that Alex had a spare room and the means to try help figure things out..Or.That time Tom called in a favor and accidentally triggered a code grey.
Relationships: Alan Blunt & Alex Rider, Alex Rider & Derek Smithers, Ben "Fox" Daniels & Alex Rider, K-Unit & Alex Rider, Tom Harris & Alex Rider, Tulip Jones & Alex Rider
Series: Double-0-Everything and Nothing at All [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754563
Comments: 22
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place 2 years before "Of Mind Games and Madness". A sort of filler/memory of Matthews in chapter 33. Sparked by an actual memory/experience of a friend.  
> Alex and Tom are both 16 but close to 17.

“Not so fast.” 

Tom just  _ barely _ held back the scream of surprise, mind reeling in panic before realizing in the nick of time who it was that had pulled him none-too-gently back, pinning him against the door he’d slammed shut behind him half a second ago

“Bloody  _ fucking  _ hell, Alex! It’s like one in the morning. What the  _ hell _ are you doing out here?” Tom hissed, trying his best to  _ not _ squirm under the spy’s furious glare. 

“I was on my way back from work and I figured I should drop by and say hi,” Alex answered dryly. 

“You live fifteen minutes from work. The other way, mate...”

“This week was a little more travel-heavy.” Alex retorted brusquely, taking a step back relinquishing his hold. 

Realization clicked as his brain finally worked past the initial startled panic to take note of his surroundings to realized he really should have been more aware. The spy had all but verbally given himself away, leaving obvious clues.

Alex’s sleek black MI6 authorized car parked conspicuously right in front of his driveway for one. 

“I  _ did  _ let you know, bout two hours ago.” 

“Oh…” 

The unread text for another. 

He really  _ should _ have been more careful. 

Lying over texts had been stressful but not impossible. He’d been doing pretty well at it, all things considered. 

But he knew that it was probably mostly because Alex himself had been  _ extremely  _ busy, hectically running between Beacon, Vauxhall, and some place called Credenhill for the past week tasked with cleaning up some new liaison agent’s logistical nightmare of a fuck up. 

While Tom knew the spy would figure out sooner or later, he really had hoped it would have been  _ later _ . 

Only a little, so that he’d have enough time to actually figure out what he would say beforehand. 

But ‘later’ had come now and he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he’d probably been found out already. 

There was really no other reason for the spy to have come all the way to make a personal visit at one in the morning after what was somewhere around a four-hour drive. 

“Sorry, I was finishing up the last of the new entry forms for school. I guess I lost track of time.” he winced apologetically. 

Alex narrowed his eyes. Tom swore his blood froze for a solid second, gut dropping with the terrifying realization that something had gone very  _ very  _ wrong. 

He’d given something away. 

Something important. 

“For City of London?” 

Tom nodded vigorously. 

“I’m almost done. All I have left is to have my parents fill out the second part.”

“That’s good. Paperwork is always so tedious.” 

“It really is. It’s exhausting.” 

“So where were you headed to just now?” 

His tone was blase, but Tom swore there was some sort of hidden threat in the question. 

Especially if his hunch was right about Alex having figured things out already. Because if so, Alex would know Tom wouldn’t be able to lie his way out this time around. Not face-to-face, anyway. 

He knew his friend could be genuinely intimidating when he wanted to be, even off duty. But as dumb as it sounded, he had to admit that Alex looked  _ that  _ much more intimidating decked out in what he presumed was the SAS uniform, tan beret and all, determined to figure out whatever it was that Tom was hiding.

Which was offsetting at the very least, knowing that Alex probably knew that Tom was hiding anything, to begin with. 

“Felt a little antsy. Thought I’d take a jog around the neighborhood.” He shrugged. 

“Makes sense.” Alex nodded in understanding.

“Tom.”

“Alex.” 

“I really hope you know who it is you’re lying to.” All at once, the casual facade fell away to genuine indignation. 

“Bold of you to think that I’m lying at all.” 

“I don’t think you’re lying.” 

Tom quirked a brow. 

“I  _ know  _ you’re lying. There’s a difference.” He struck a nerve 

“Alright then. You tell me. What exactly is it that I’m lying about?” he crossed his arms, turning it right back. 

“Don’t be difficult. You know that I know, Tom. And I’ve known for a while now. I should have stepped in sooner.” 

“Know  _ what _ , Alex? What do you know about any of this?!” 

And all at once, the emotional dam he’d built to handle the days and days of pent up stress started to crack. 

It wasn’t Alex’s fault, he knew that. 

Officially signing with 6 meant more work. A lot more, it seemed as of late. But it wasn’t even that. 

Business and hectic schedules weren’t the problem. 

The problem was that, somehow, in the midst of all of the chaos, Alex had managed to figure out what it was he’d been trying so damn hard to keep under control. He hadn’t been doing a good job of it and it was spiraling out of control. 

His parents had decided to try to stay together again for some godforsaken reason and it was  _ very  _ quickly sliding back into familiar territory forcing him to walk on eggshells as to not bother the fragile peace. 

And then there was the matter of school. 

With the reattempt at rekindling their relationship, his parents had recklessly decided that a move was in order. So without a single word of warning, he’d been forced to pack up his stuff and relocate almost half an hour away to a new place-Stoke Newington. And as much as he had argued against it, they’d forced him to change schools as well, arguing that the new school had ‘better prospectives’ than Brooklands did. Which was all bullshit. 

He had checked. 

So all in all, things were pretty shit on his end, and he  _ wasn’t  _ coping well. 

But as much as he wanted to leave, he just couldn’t squash the little voice in the back of his head that had him believing he just needed to figure things out on his own. That he would become a bigger burden than he already was, something he  _ didn’t  _ want to be. 

He knew Alex wouldn’t hesitate, but the dark voice kept telling him that even Alex would have his limits and that the spy would eventually grow tired of him as well. 

Which in all honesty was fair. At least in his own head. 

Alex was sixteen getting very close to seventeen, with a ‘real’ job that was undoubtedly beyond stressful, and Tom just didn’t want to stress him out any further. He wasn’t Alex’s responsibility. 

There was a difference between sleeping over every so often and actually moving in. 

He’d just need to grit it out for two more years, work his ass off and hopefully pack up to a university far  _ far  _ away so he’d never have to see his parents again. 

Two years. 

Two  _ miserable  _ fucking years…

“For starters, I know that you were leaving for a smoke. You’ve got a pack in your pocket right now that you got down the road at the little twenty four hour mini-mart where the owner’s son deals under the table.”

Tom’s eyes widened in shock. 

“I know that you’ve been smoking for almost a month now. You can’t just douse yourself with cologne, Tom. That’s not how it works. I could smell it on your jacket when you came over for dinner two weeks ago.” 

Alex took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

“And as much as you want to try to get me to believe it, I know that you’ve been lying about being okay. I could hear them shouting from my car, I imagine it’s much  _ much  _ more stressful being in the thick of it all the damn time, especially with the whole school thing.” 

Tom swallowed thickly, suddenly very aware that he’d been found out. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he took a step closer.

“What was so fucking important that you couldn’t just tell me? Why try to keep it a secret at all?”

Alex demanded. 

He was angry. 

Furious even. 

But work had been a formidable distraction and kept him from further pursuing the issue and it had eaten him up the whole two weeks just knowing what sort of stress his friend was probably under. 

But he’d been curious as well. 

Tom knew that he had plenty of space. Apart from Ben staying over now and again, the guest room was mostly Tom’s room. 

So why hadn’t he just moved in altogether?

“Because-” Tom gritted out, glaring down at the pavement.

"I'm not your responsibility, Alex. I can handle my own problems."

It sounded dumb. 

It  _ was  _ dumb.

Dumb and irrational and  _ embarrassingly _ childish but he was past caring. He just wanted-no  _ needed  _ to keep  _ some  _ sort of control and ignoring the situation had been his way of doing just that. 

Ignore and deflect. 

Throw himself into schoolwork. 

Obsess over uni planning. 

Join the school’s football team just for the hell of it. It would give him further excuse to leave earlier. To stay out on top of the hours he’d planned on spending in after school clubs and the library so that he would actually be able to focus so he’d stay afloat in the hellish schedule he’d opted for.

All of it just to distract himself from the fact that things were  _ definitely  _ not going well and that two years was longer than he knew. 

It had all just continued piling and piling and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was getting  _ dangerously  _ close to the end of his rope. 

Alex’s car suddenly switched on, lighting up the darkened street. The start-up beep reverberated, startling Tom out of his spiraling thoughts. 

“Get in.” 

“Why?” he didn’t move a muscle, eyes following Alex as he made his way to the driver’s side and slid in, looking expectantly at Tom. 

“I’m still in uniform.”

“And?”

“Just get in.” he requested, sounding more than a little put-out.

“ _ Please _ ? I’ll bring you back. I swear. I just want to talk.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add: The story's inspo songs are:   
> Martin Garrix & Troye Sivan - There for You  
> Troye Sivan - Ease

"How'd you know bout the cigarettes?" Tom asked, breaking the silence. 

They'd been driving mindlessly around the area for the past twenty minutes in silence and Alex didn't seem to have any intention of stopping any time soon. Or start talking for that matter.

In hindsight, that was probably the spy's intention all along. Casual interrogation tactics and all, because Tom knew Alex but he knew himself better. And as much as he hated the loud and jarring chaos he lived in, he'd grown to hate the silence even more. 

It was the calm before the storm, the invisible glass under his feet that was in danger of breaking at whim. Breaking and leaving splinters before smoothing out again, cycling over and over in his case. It was  _ exhausting _ being on edge all the damn time, but it definitely hurt less than letting his guard down and making a mistake because he never knew what the consequence would be. But it wasn’t always like that. 

Some days were good. Peaceful even with his parents actually  _ talking.  _ And then some days were  _ great _ . Days where he could actually come downstairs to grab some actual food without having to skirt around like some sort of thief in his own house. When the fridge  _ wasn't  _ empty. It meant that someone had actually realized that there was no food. Or dish soap for that matter. 

And somewhere during that glorious temporary ceasefire, they would realize the state of their small home. It was clean, or as close as Tom could get it between the bouts of bad days when he'd find himself alone in the silence after they'd both storm out for a few hours or days. Tom still could never really tell how long they’d be gone for. He just resigned himself to cleaning up the messes left behind so as to erase a potential catalyst for yet  _ another  _ argument turned shouting match; a small but desperate attempt to try and keep the peace.

And then there were the bad days.

Stress inducing, sleep-stealing, fucking  _ awful  _ days where he couldn't even bring himself to leave his room let alone sneak downstairs. 

_ Those  _ days meant hunger. They meant pacing his room trying to ignore the abhorrent things he could hear his parents scream at each other even through his earphones. But what had  _ really  _ dragged him down hard was whenever they would argue about him. 

Tom, the kid they hadn't particularly seemed to have wanted if the past few years hadn't been indicative enough, was all of a sudden a priority. 

But only out of spite. Tom was sure of it. They only wanted him so that the other couldn't, like some sort of schoolyard petulance over a toy. And while he told himself over and over again that he hated them and their dysfunctional situation, some small part of him just  _ couldn't  _ bring himself to cut them out.

Couldn't pretend that he wasn't hurt by it all. Like it wasn't dragging him deeper and deeper down the ruinous rabbit hole of anxiety and depression with every fight, reinforcing his deepest fear. 

It was why he'd kept so quiet for so long, actively working to  _ not  _ bring Alex into this mess because the thought of possibly being abandoned the same way again by someone he genuinely loved had him wondering whether it was even worth it to keep going. To keep planning and striving towards a goal that he wasn't sure he even wanted anymore. 

He was losing the 'spark', the 'drive', and the all-around interest in… everything, really, all of it crushed under the frightening weight of the numbness that had slowly but surely started to drown everything else, leaving him feeling like shit.

But he couldn't get the words out of his mouth to reach out for help because saying it out loud required being vulnerable and acknowledging that he wasn't okay, and it proper scared him because he  _ himself  _ didn't know how much more he could take before he would really lose it and do something he’d regret. 

"What?" Alex asked apologetically, sneaking a quick glance over at Tom before returning his attention to the road ahead, making a wide turn. 

"The cigarettes. How'd you know where I got them?" Tom sounded genuinely curious.

"I've been running surveillance since about ten. You stopped by around ten-fifty."

Tom froze, gears rushing to register the confession. "Nine…?" Tom balked, snapping his full attention to the spy."You've been out there for  _ five hours _ ?!" 

Alex hummed and affirmative. "Well actually, it's more like four and a half." 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“You said so yourself, that this week was killer. And I  _ know  _ you probably haven’t actually slept. Didn’t you drive down from Beacon?”

“Yeah…and?” 

“Why waste your time like this then?! You should be resting?!” 

Tom caught the small flinch before he was pitched forward, pinballed roughly between the seatbelt and the door before falling back into his seat, eyes wide in shock from the sudden halt. He heard Alex put the car in park before turning sharply in his seat, leveling Tom with a look of genuine anger and hurt. “Are you serious?” 

“Was that necessary?” Tom hit right back, turning his head to stare grimly back.

“Yes, it was. What the  _ hell  _ do you mean ‘a waste of time’?” 

“I mean what I said. I told you I was fine. My parents’ situation is not worth an entire five hours of your time. Or anyone else’s for that matter.” 

“I wasn’t doing this for your parents, Tom. I know you know that. You’re my best mate. I’m doing this for  _ you _ and  _ only  _ you!” 

“I don’t  _ need  _ any help. I don’t  _ need  _ you to feel obligated to-”

“Obligated…?” Alex muttered stiffly, brows furrowing in appalling confusion. “You really think that I’m doing this out of some sort of  _ obligation... _ ?” Tom didn’t respond, mouth pulled tight in a grim line meeting Alex’s eyes with unwavering acceptance.

“Is that what you think? Do you  _ really  _ honest to god really believe that all of this was out of fucking  _ obligation?!”  _ Alex hissed caustically, voice shaking in barely restrained anger. Tom flinched but he didn’t look away, forcing from stepping down. 

Of course it was an obligation. It had to be…His mind wouldn’t let him believe anything else. 

“Say something!” Alex shouted the sudden climb in volume left silence ringing in the compact space inside the car. 

“What the fuck do you want me to say?!”

“Tell me why you’re so adamant about pretending like everything is fine when you’re  _ clearly  _ not! W-”

“Because!” Tom exploded, hands balled white-knuckled by his side. “I’m scared, alright?! I’m-my situation-my parents-everything” he rambled in frustrated confusion. “Because my own fucking _parents_ don’t want me. Because a little voice in my head keeps telling me that it’ll be you next. That you’ll get sick of me too, and I can’t-” he choked, gulping in a shaky breath.  “Cause trying just feels fucking pointless. Everything feels pointless but not doing anything makes me feel so damn anxious. And I’m scared it’s going to be like that forever and- _ Christ _ ” he cut off abruptly, pulling his legs in, hugging them close wiping aggressively at the angry stinging tears. 

“I hate them so  _ fucking  _ much, but they’re still my parents, you know? And I know they don’t love me or want me. I hate the fact that I can’t just fucking cut them out of my life and stop caring, that I keep trying for some goddamn reason to keep the peace.” 

Alex gawked in gut-wrenching shock before snapping out of it to lean in closer, pulling Tom into a hug the best he could from his position, squeezing tight. He felt Tom tense for a moment before relaxing, burying his face in the rough fabric of Alex’s shoulder unable to stem the heaving sobs.  It was cathartic, but it was beyond painful. Being vulnerable meant admitting to things he really didn’t want to. It felt like he was speaking them to life, making them all the more real, like little papercuts. But this time he wasn’t alone and it made all the difference. So he clung on, letting out weeks upon weeks of pent up hurt and emotions as Alex ran soothing circles on his back, giving him time to grieve. 

They stayed like that until Tom ran out of tears, staring wordlessly into space, resting his head against the spy’s shoulder feeling drained. 

“I was serious, you know.” 

Tom hummed quietly in question.

“When I said all you need to do is to ask. I really  _ was  _ here because I care about you, Tom. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah.” Tom sighed, hauling himself back up, collapsing onto his seat. “I know.” 

Alex nodded, taking a moment to compose himself before starting the engine. “And you know that my offer still stands. I have space, and you’re more than welcome to move in. Only if you want to. No pressure.” 

“I think-” Tom swallowed thickly. “I think I’d like that, a lot,” he mumbled, fiddling sheepishly with the hem of his shirt.

“Sounds good.” Alex smiled. “I’ll help you pack.” 

They started down the road, looping back towards where they’d started sitting in content silence. 

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks, mate. For everything.” 

“It’s the least you deserve.”

And for the first time in a very long time, it felt like everything was going to be alright.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been exactly 3 weeks since Alex stopped himself from murdering Tom on his own front steps at one in the morning out of sheer frustration. 

Twenty-one days since Tom let Alex help him pack up and move out of the dysfunctional chaotic hell that had been his home, assuring him that things would be alright. That _he_ would be alright.

And in the mostly quiet calm of their living together, life was good. Jones had, surprised, pulled a few strings to help Tom file for emancipation, slipping in a good word about what Alex had explained. And just like that, Tom Harris was free. 

Three weeks bore no calls or messages from his parents. No attempt at communication or upset at his sudden disappearance, and in all honesty, he preferred it that way. It involved no irrational guilt on his part. He could finally just rip off the band-aid and throw it away so that the wound could breathe and heal. 

School had been a pleasant surprise. Issues he had stressed about for weeks on end hadn’t come to fruition. He _wasn’t_ friendless and drowning, out of his depth in work. Almost the opposite. The first week had yielded classmates who were more than welcoming. They’d been a good group of mellowed out kids who felt _ways_ away from the judgemental immaturity he’d gone through back when Alex actually attended school. And there were no rumors for him to kill, which was all the more convenient. And the football team. All hesitation went out the window when he nearly tripped over a bleacher laughing tears before practice at some of the guys _insisted_ on ‘properly’ introducing Tom to the team. It was the start of what he could tell would be a _beautiful_ teamship with loads of punishment laps for the time wasted goofing off. 

All in all, school had been good. _Great_ even. But it had _nothing_ on the _visceral_ relief he felt when it finally registered that he didn’t have to sneak around anymore. That he wouldn't have to be on guard all the _damn_ time waiting for things to go wrong because Alex wasn't just going to pop off at any time for the smallest things. He didn't need to worry about straining to keep any sort of peace and could genuinely relax for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

They’d come a long way. Both of them. And life was great.

Two years had brought about growth; physically, mentally, emotionally, and in biting sarcasm in Alex’s case as Tom pointed out more than once. Mostly gone were the days of skirting around his little secret because he didn’t need to anymore. Signing on as an actual agent had given him more freedom and privileges than he’d anticipated, with some much-needed stability. With the certainty that Alex wouldn’t run, Blunt and Jones had been more than happy to honor his wishes to remain independent and emancipated all the way through when he’d reach the legal age. They’d paid him for the two years of extorted work, giving him the option to buy a house of his own choosing, letting him start anew away from Ian’s house, leaving the Chelsea property in his possession. 

And there was the car and the other special allowances, like being armed. _Actually_ armed. Alex had shown him the safe in his office the day he’d moved in on the ‘ _official_ ’ walkthrough. And while he was positive there were probably other weapons scattered around the house in hiding, Tom was more than content in not knowing. He was happy to stick with the jagged fixed blade knife the spy had requested he keep somewhere in his room, just in case. 

Another perk to being an official agent was the downtime. Health leave, paid leave, personal leave, on top of regular holidays scattered here and there. Like a ‘normal’ job but with more explosions and all-around stress and danger. 

But Alex seemed to manage well enough, living in a somewhat of a vague ‘subject-to- change’ sort of routine. At least from what Tom had gotten accustomed to in the three weeks he’d been there. 

Alex would wake up around five if he’d actually gone to bed at all, which Tom quickly came to find happened often. On rainy days he would head for his office to get some work done, something that an official status apparently brought in piles of. Paperwork for _days_. He mentioned it one early morning.

_________

_“It’s not all missions all the time, you know. Most of it’s just plodding around going to meetings and researching for upcoming missions, and that has its own set of paperwork that needs to be completed. And then there are the pre-mission write-ups and skill-specific training and that’s only if I’m scheduled for a mission, to begin with. Sometimes I get strapped with ‘guidance duty’ where I help out with the new recruits’ training. It all depends on whatever the upper leadership decides on and the roster availability.”_

_“That sounds-”_

_“Tedious? It really is...”_

___________

And after an hour or two he’d meander downstairs and get the coffee started, another thing Tom couldn’t _quite_ understand. The deep dark bitterness had hit him like a goddamn bus the first time he accepted the proffered mug. 

He stuck with tea after that, when he’d groggily make his way downstairs to join Alex for breakfast around seven before getting ready for the day ahead. 

Tom would leave first around seven-thirty or eight if felt like really toeing the line, opting to bike the thirty minutes across the Thames to the school. He’d take public transportation every now and then. Alex would follow not too long after, tidying up before leaving no later than eight-thirty most days, driving through the early morning traffic to work.

He was always early. It could be counted on as the closest thing to a consistent habit Alex had. Between *unofficially passing SAS selection two months back while officially working in tandem with 6, he’d grown something akin to a healthy respect for slash conditioned anxiety to punctuality. It just made everything easier to consider being early as being on time. So he was on time all the time, ready to check off the endless checklist of things that needed to be done day-to-day. Like familiar busywork from his school days, but with actual consequences. 

But it wasn’t too bad. They’d given him an actual office that _wasn’t_ Ian’s that was tucked away towards the back closer to Blunt's own office, far from the prying eyes and ears of the lower-level agents in their cubicles, something he _very_ much appreciated because the sudden hush that followed his every appearance wasn’t exactly what he wanted every time he was summoned. As innocuous as it was, the ‘secret’ staring never failed to make him want to snap back. Just once. But he never did, because he was above all of that _damn it_. That was what he repeated on loop whenever he had to cross the dreaded space to Ben’s office on the other side of the hall, eyes straight ahead walking with purpose. 

On normal days he would clock out around four and fit an hour’s worth in the gym, wash up and head back home with a briefcase of remaining work to complete. He’d return to find Tom knee-deep in assignments, and commiserations would happen over dinner. 

Clean up was a quick affair, leading to some much-warranted unwinding which would almost always be football match re-runs or a casual show or movie here and there. But they never ended up actually watching whatever it was to the end, opting to multitask with any remaining work, which was the case most of the time. Tossing questions into the open every few minutes for the other to answer. **Which was exactly how Alex came to tutor Tom in Russian and Government and Politics, which was a relief because Further Maths was beyond him.

They’d stay like that for an hour or two, sometimes even later when Alex had a _particularly_ heavy workload left or when Tom needed to revise for a test or finish an essay. But neither of them were early sleepers so it worked out well.

Until it didn’t.

* * *

January brought bone-chilling temperatures as well as a safeish return from what had been a week-long joint mission turned near-death experience out in the US. The mission itself had been a success, at least from what Alex had warily explained over dinner the night he’d been allowed to check out from the hospital. 

***The plan of attack had been split unilaterally, with all three agents carrying out their respective parts separately. Different jobs in different places to manipulate the right conditions. The contingency was that, due to the intricacies and overall sensitivity of the mission, the margin for error was tight but they needed to keep the communication to a minimum to leave the connection a secret. As a precaution, a sort of collateral in the case of a blown cover.

He’d been outed. Or at least he thought he’d been, erring on the side of overthinking caution. Which was the reason he’d opted for a last-minute change-up.

With less than eight hours to go before the final sting, he had no intention of letting all the work that had been done go to waste. He just needed to watch his back and hold it together until then. But there had been a small slip-up turned _big_ problem near the end due to some sort of miscommunication between his team and the backup. 

Long story short, the back up hadn’t been given proper intel, or _all_ of it anyway. They’d anticipated a blond with dark brown eyes but caught a bright green-eyed auburn-haired stranger rushing out the back of the target building seconds before it had exploded into a fireball leaving no trace of the drugs they’d been looking for.

He’d completed his part, and all that was left to do was to report back to Langley.

But with the other two agents tying up the remaining loose ends and seeing their last part through leaving no one to corroborate his admission, it was needless to say, he was captured _very_ quickly and frog marched to interrogation. Which was when things started going downhill. 

Their tactics were vigilante at best, and most _definitely_ illegal, but they didn’t seem to mind, filling bucket after bucket of ice-cold water drain over the towel trying to scare him into admission. 

It went on a solid three hours before his team got to him, putting an end to the gruesome session. He was lucky. They had left the knife wound for moments before they were caught, but they had nicked the femoral and that was how his team had found him, roughly tied to one of the motel room's chairs half-conscious and struggling to breathe as blood sluggishly bubbled out around the knife staining the white tub scarlet. From there he was moved to a hospital to be treated for pleurisy along with possible secondary drowning and impending hypovolemic shock. 

The agents were promptly arrested and Alex was rushed to the nearest emergency room, getting checked in for three days to monitor his critical condition. The doctor had ruled out secondary drowning, but the added stress with water had exacerbated to pleurisy, something that would need extended time to fix. But the most concerning had been the blood loss. He’d gone into full shock and flat-lined twice on the way to the hospital, barely arriving on time to be stabilized. It was touch and go from there for the first few hours before his vitals stabilized enough to allow an immediate departure back to London, which he took without hesitation. 

From there he was transferred back to Langely to fly back. He was checked into St. Doms immediately after landing.

That had been Tuesday, four days ago, but strangely enough he felt like he was getting progressively worse. Feeling more exhausted by the hour.

So tired that, come Monday, he’d _completely_ missed his first alarm for six, dead to the world after writhing fitfully through the night alternating between burning up and shaking with chills. The six-thirty came and went as did the seven and seven-thirty alarm. His brain didn’t even register the text alerts and calls, too deep asleep for any of it.

In the end it was a fit of painful coughs that pulled him back to consciousness, feeling like absolute _shit._ Muscles aching with a killer headache that was pounding a sickening drumbeat in his head. 

He laid in the dark coolness a moment longer before reaching for his phone to reorient himself and check the time. 

**_09:28_ ** **Monday**

**3 missed calls from Ben**

**5 unread messages from Ben**

**1 missed call from Jones**

Everything came crashing back to him all at once, slicing through the tired grogginess with a wave of anxious panic. 

“Shit. Shit. _Shit!_ ” he all but dove out of bed crashing straight down onto the floor in a blink of an eye as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. The pounding in his head worsened, crying out in protest against the jarring movements, and for a solid moment, he really considered just staying on the cold wood floor and asking for forgiveness later, because the thought of having to move made him want to cry. He’d have to actually make an effort to choose a suit and a button-up, _and_ tie nevermind actually tie said tie. He wasn’t even sure he _could_ tie a tie in his current state. There were just _too_ many steps.

And of _course,_ it _would_ be on the _one_ day he was _absolutely_ obligated to be present and on time. Jones had warned him a month in advance, making sure Alex knew just how important the meeting would be. 

It was non-negotiable. 

All rostered senior agents were required to attend the change of power briefing as it affected them the most. A chance for the agents to meet the new head and vice versa. And as an official senior agent, it was a high priority.

So he took a deep breath and went against what felt like every fiber of his being, hauling himself off of the ground squeezing his eyes shut against the momentary dizziness before moving toward his closet, picking the suit nearest to him. He plucked up a crisp white button-up and grabbed a tie at random along with a pair of boxers and dark dress socks, resigning himself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. 

It was going to be fine. He could do this. 

But first, a cold shower was in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *  
> **  
> ***  
> Possible one-shot/companion piece ideas!


	4. Chapter 4

Keys. 

Keys. 

Where had he left his keys?! 

He hadn’t used them since before the mission, but that had been more than a week ago. But he swore he’d seen them _somewhere_ ! But they _weren’t_ . Not in his office _or_ his bedroom. 

He rushed down the stairs, jaw clenched against the spikes of throbbing pain that were shooting up and down his… everywhere, really. 

Not to mention the groggy haze that was making it _bloody_ well impossible to _think_. He’d just need to do it manually then. Room by room. 

It wasn’t like he was already late enough. He’d ignored the first five texts, it wouldn’t hurt to ignore the next few. At least until he could find the _goddamn_ -...Tom?

Oh.

Oh _no_.

This-this was just _cruel_.

“Tom…?” He made his way over to the sofa, sending loose-leaf revision notes flying in his wake. “Tom!” 

He stirred briefly, mumbling some incoherent gibberish before turning over, curling in on himself against the chill. 

“Tom- _Tom!-”_ Alex reached out, shaking him none too gently. “Wake up. You’ve got to wake up! It’s almost ten!” 

_That_ had Tom jolting back into the world of consciousness, scrambling, half-awake and toeing the line into full-blown panic which morphed into apprehensive confusion once he realized Alex’s presence, something that he _shouldn’t_ have been realizing because Alex was supposed to be at work by now, _not_ waking him up at almost ten dressed in a full suit. The haphazardly untied navy tie around the spy’s neck only had him feeling all the more baffled. Nothing was adding up. 

“You have a presentation at ten, don’t you?” 

“ _Shit!_ I-I’ll just have to ask my partner to stall. Get someone else to go first. I could probably make it if I get there by at least ten-thirty-and the test and...I’ll just bike ov-” Tom hissed a frustrated sigh. “I left my bike at school cause one of the wheels popped. _Fuck_!”

“Just go get ready. I’ll take you.” 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” 

“I’m already late as it is, and I’m technically still on health leave. They’ll just have to deal. Besides, I’m not about to let you fail a presentation _and_ a test. I owe you a favor anyway. Just hurry.” 

“Thanks mate!” he sprinted off to the stairs. “Your keys were in the fridge, by the way. In the butter hutch. Saw them last night. I put them on the counter next to the coffee machine!” 

Alex quirked a brow. 

_That_ was new… 

But more importantly- he grimaced glaring down at his tie-for the _actual_ challenge. How had it gone again? Over and under and…?

* * *

“You’ve got everything?” Alex started the ignition.

“Yup.” Tom held up his backpack, buckling himself in. 

“Good. hold on tight. Things are going to be a little turbulent.”

“What does that-” 

They flew out of the driveway and onto the neighborhood roads, capping at a solid 5 over the speed limit before all but racing out onto the actual streets speeding up to fifteen over weaving through cars like it was nothing. 

He couldn’t even look away. All Tom could do was grab on to the grab handle and the side of his seat and pray in wide-eyed terror to whoever was listening to please, _please_ let them make it in one piece. 

“The limit’s one-twelve. You’re almost thirty over, you absolute _psychopath_!” he screeched, flinching as Alex merged lanes to take a sharp left riding fast to nearly drift the wide right around Kennington Oval.

“ _Almost_ being the keyword. I’ll have you know I’m only twenty-five over.”

“ _Twenty-five_?! Are you insane?!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve gone faster before.” 

“ _Here_?!” 

“‘Round Vauxhall. On the Autobahn. I’ve done all-terrane as well. It’s actually a thing SI and most military-well, at least SAS teaches. Tactical driving and shooting. I’ve passed it. We’ll be fine. I promise. I'm headed to Vauxhall today anyway. It's familiar territory."

He took another sharp left, sending Tom careening into the door. 

“But on the topic of tactical driving, is it just me or is that car behind us tailing us?” Tom glanced back, craning his neck to check. 

“Big black SUV with tinted windows?” 

Alex winced. That sounded about right. 

“Do me a favor, yeah?” 

“What?” 

“Grab my phone-the code is 1700126.”

“Got it.” 

“Go to contacts-”

“You’ve got an incoming call from Ben.” 

“Accept the call. _Please be six. Please be six. Please be six-_ ” he muttered.

“Are you out of your _goddamn_ mind?!” 

“Hiya, Ben-

“Don’t _hiya_ me. What the _fuck_ are you doing drifting on Kennington Oval? It’s a high-density area. You have _no_ business going full grand theft auto!” 

“I’m gonna assume the SUV on steroids tailing me is 6?” 

“They are-” Ben ground out. “Jones had about five patrolling the area since you’ve decided to just up and go MIA and _not_ pick up. You’ve got flagged with a code grey. They’ll be armed, you know. Armed and ready to bring you in.”

“ _Yes,_ it _is_ 6! Sorry about that, by the way."

“Don’t be sorry. Just turn right around and get your arse over here. It's gone fifteen past ten. The meeting started an hour ago! Jones is _pissed_.” 

“So, funny story…” 

“Turn. Around.” 

“I really can’t…”

“Alex, I swear to god. If you don’t turn before Waterloo Bridge-”

“Sorry! I’ll explain later. I promise! I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes!” 

“Don’t you dare hang up on me-”

“Gotta go!” 

“ _AL-”_

They sped across the bridge in silence. 

Mostly stunned silence on Tom’s part.

“They’re still following you, you know.” he croaked out. 

“Mhm. It’s because I’ve been flagged with a code grey.”

“Code grey?” 

“Missing in Action domestically. It doesn’t really happen too much.”

“Was it an important meeting?” 

Alex shrugged. “More or less. More like an orientation than an actual briefing.”

“Orientation for what?” 

“Meeting the new head of 6.”

Tom’s jaw dropped in shock. 

“The new head of 6- _ALEX_! Are you taking the fucking piss right now?!” 

The spy shook his head Tom didn’t even notice him _barely_ make the merge for the turn toward his school. 

“I mean, we’re bound to meet at _some_ point. And it’s not like I’m all out skipping to skip. I did actually have a legitimate excuse. And besides, it’s like I said. It’s more an orientation than any sort of new briefing. They probably went through the basic rules and a few new changes. I’ll make it to the Q&A at the very least.”

They came to a slow stop.

Tom huffed out a resigned sigh. “You’re _mental_ , you know that?” he stepped out, hauling his bag over his shoulder. 

“It’s an occupational skill” Alex tossed back with a smirk. “But hey, I’ll probably be leaving early today, so I can pick you after school too.”

“I don’t know if my blood pressure is gonna be able to take it.” Tom shrugged, slamming the door shut, rolling his eyes as Alex rolled down the window.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t _that_ bad.” 

“It was. And you’ve got company, by the way.” 

Alex craned back, cursing as the SUV caught up. “I’ll text you. Good luck on your test and presentation!” 

“Please, for the love of all that is good. Slow the _fuck_ down!” 

“I can’t. I’m late, remember?” 

And without further hesitation, Alex stepped on the gas, speeding off wheels squealing back towards what would be a very _very_ long lecture on occupational priorities.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought this was going to be the last chapter but it's NOT! There's one more chapter left~

“Can you  _ please _ call them off? I’ve been ‘found’. They’ve reached their objective. There’s absolutely  _ no _ reason for them to  _ still  _ be after me. They’re actually stressing me out.”

“That’s up to Jones to decide, unfortunately. She wants to know where you’re at.”

“I’m  _ literally  _ headed toward Vauxhall as we speak. This is so unnecessary! It’s gotta count as a danger to the general public at the very least!” he protested sharply, triggering a fit of coughs.

“I don’t know, Alex. Do you really want to talk about being a danger to the general public, huh? Maybe it was the ‘one-thirty-seven’ on a ‘one-twelve’ road. Or maybe purposefully avoiding capture. Or you know, fucking  _ drifting  _ on  _ Kennington Oval _ ?!” 

“Okay, fine.  _ Fine _ . I  _ might _ have been a little reckless, but I’ll have you know that  _ we, _ as in  _ all  _ of us, are going twenty over as we speak. So if I’m a danger, so are they! Just something for Tulip to take into consideration. ” Alex snarked back, weaving in and out of traffic all but ignoring the angry honking ringing out behind him.

“Twenty  _ where _ ?”

“Just passed Westminster Abbey.” 

“You’re going  _ sixty-four?!” _

“Well, technically speaking,  _ they’re  _ going sixty-four. I’m pushing about seventy-ish.” 

“ALEX!”

“I’m sorry. Are  _ you  _ the one being chased by armed agents?! I didn’t think so.” 

They’re with six!”

“They ran down at  _ least _ five signposts. And they almost hit like three pedestrians! I’m not about to bloody slow down.” 

He heard the exasperated sigh on the other end. 

“Look, I’ll get Jones to call them off, just slow down! You know full and well that Westminster area’s limit’s thirty-two,  _ at most _ .”

“I’m  _ well  _ aware. There were more than enough signs telling me that. I mean, five of them aren’t there anymore, but I  _ did  _ see them before they got  _ murdered. _ ”  __

“Oh,  _ wow _ . You actually  _ do _ look at speed limits then?”

“Hilarious.  _ Really.”  _ The older spy didn’t even have to ask. He could practically feel the eye-roll through the phone. 

“I’ll have you know that I haven’t gotten a single speeding fine this past year.” 

“You haven’t even had your car for an entire year!” 

“ _ And _ …?”

“That’s not-you know what? Just hurry- _ no _ . Scratch that. Just follow the  _ goddamn  _ limit, alright? She’s told them to stand down, so they should be backing off soon.” 

“Wait, before you go-”

“What?” 

“Just so I can prepare myself properly. on a scale from one to *the coffee incident, how mad is she?” 

“A smidge over *the cookie incident.” 

“ _ Oh _ , shit… In that case-” 

“Wait! Don’t you  _ dare _ \- did you just  _ crash _ ?! What the  _ hell  _ was that sound?! 

“ _ that  _ was a successful high speed merge into the turn lane. And,  _ no _ , I didn’t  _ crash _ . Just kind of clipped on top of the turn barrier. Nothing to sweat about.” 

“You stopped on top of the  _ turn barrier _ ?!” 

“O _ bviously  _ not. I gunned the turn. I’m almost a third across Vauxhall bridge.” he scoffed. “I’m late, remember?” 

“A veritable  _ madman _ , I swear…” Ben muttered warily. 

“that's a strange way to say 'misunderstood'."

" _ Jesus _ -I'm hanging up now."

"I miss you already…" 

" _ Insufferable _ . Goodbye."

* * *

“Oh, Agent Rider. Agent Rider! I've got a note left for you." 

_ Fuck _ .

"Nathan! Good morning!" He backtracked, plastering on an affable smile moving toward the reception booth next to the secondary security station.

"Agent Daniels asked me to keep an eye out for you. I think he's been looking for you, actually. He told me to tell you to text him to let him know when you got here so that he could-" 

"You are goddamn  _ impossible  _ to deal with sometimes, you know that?! 

The clamor of the busy atrium came to a sharp halt at the sudden,  _ clearly  _ cross shout from the main staircase by a  _ very  _ irate senior agent who looked about ready to murder. 

Alex looked up sheepishly, muttering an apology to the front desk worker before striding through security.

"Okay, but in my defense-"

"In your defense  _ nothing _ , because you bloody well don't  _ have  _ one. Threw  _ that  _ out the moment you decided to up and  _ disappear _ ! Why  _ today  _ of all days?!" 

"I didn’t just up and decide to skip! There were... _ extenuating circumstances _ !" He protested. “I was in in a rush!” he winced, successfully holding back a cough.

"You can multitask! You did just fine speeding through morning traffic when you finally answered your goddamn phone!" 

All eyes followed Alex with bated breath as he strode closer, eager to see what would happen next. 

"I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Zip it." The older spy shoved the blond a thick manila folder. "You're already late as it is. You better pray Matthews is understanding because Jones is about ready to tear your head off and I'm  _ not  _ about to step into any of that." 

Ben turned, leaving Alex trailing behind rushing to catch up on the stairs, taking them by twos.

"But teamwork makes and dream work, Ben! And I thought we were partners. A bonafide  _ team _ ." 

"You can thank me for not shoving you down the stairs,  _ partner _ . Consider it a heartfelt gift from the bottom of my heart. Now  _ hurry up _ !" Ben turned, continuing up the stairs leaving the younger spy rushing to catch up, taking the stairs in twos.

* * *

“And where the  _ hell  _ have you been, young man?!” 

“Ms. Jones! Hello-um I’d like to take this time to express my  _ deepest  _ regret and- _ ow _ !” he flinched back, brows scrunching in bewilderment. 

“Do you have  _ any  _ idea what time it is?” Ben sidestepped the blond’s attempt at cowering behind him, leaving Alex vulnerable to the clipboard the deputy head of SIS was brandishing. “You better have a proper explanation for this. A  _ damn  _ good one!” she hissed, stabbing the younger spy none too gently with the clipboard. 

“I do. I swear I do!” Alex threw his hands up in a sign of surrender before falling victim to another small fit of unpleasant coughs, forcing him to drop an arm so he could cough into the crook of it.

Jones narrowed her eyes, mouth straightening into a grim line. But she held off on further stabbing. 

“ _ Good _ . Now get in there, and  _ don’t  _ make a scene.” 

“I’ll be invisible.  _ Promise _ . He won’t even notice I’m there.” and with that he sidestepped the irate deputy boss, sprinting out of the elevator hall and through the open office space, pulling the lower-level agents milling about out of focus, leaving them staring in dumbfounded confusion in his wake. And he kept going, zig-zagging through the maze of offices until he reached  _ the  _ corner, taking it just a smidge too fast nearly shoving him against the wall. But he recovered in no time, slowing down to a jog a few paces before the double doors of the ‘big’ briefing room. 

He took one last deep breath, coughing against the oxygen over expenditure, straightening his tie and run a hand through his still-damp hair in a vain attempt to make it look more presentable before striding over and gently inched a door open. He maneuvered himself fluidly in before silently bringing the door to a close behind him. 

_____________

“As for external locations, after serious deliberation amongst MI5, GCHQ, and the Foreign Secretary along with the Ministry of Defense, we will be closing down most all other locations save for the Belfast and Edinburgh locations.” the man at the front moved forward on the presentation. 

“Those locations include; Briar’s Gate Law Firm in Manchester, R&D International Logistics in Cardiff, and the Royal and General in Chelsea.” 

_ That  _ was certainly new news…

“All agents based in those locations will need to relocate back to Vauxhall. The official transition period will begin this coming Monday. Unfortunately, this means that some of you will need to file for new status allowances for the Vauxhall location.” 

There was a smattering of groans. Alex sighed, looking at the necessary paperwork listed on the page they were going over. It was going to be a pain in the arse. He could already tell. 

“And with that, are there any questions?” the man exited the presentation and shut the screen off before turning expectantly to the considerable group. 

“No one?” 

They remained silent. 

“Alright then-” he clapped his hands together. “In that case, I would like to personally thank all of you for coming. As the new head of SIS I’m sure that I will be seeing all of you individually at some point in the month, but if you do find yourself in need of answers to any questions you may have before then, please feel free to stop by my office. You are all dismissed.” 

There was a flurry of movement and noise as the agents stood, gathering their things and milling about, waiting to personally greet the man of the hour. But Alex stayed put, carefully putting the stack of papers back into his folder. 

“You should go say hello.” Ben nudged. 

“I think I’ll wait.” Alex stood, taking his phone out of his pocket, tapping the folder in his other hand restlessly against his leg. 

“Until?” 

“Until I have to. He said so himself- we’re bound to meet eventually. And besides-” the blond grimaced. “The paperwork for the status allowance requests is like fifty pages _minimum_. And that’s only for _new_ agents.”

“It’s ten past  _ eleven _ .  _ And  _ we get to leave early today.” 

“Look, I’m just exhausted, alright?” Alex shrugged honestly. I think I might be coming down with something from the last mission.” 

“Something like, oh I don’t know... _ Pneumonia _ ?” Ben frowned disapprovingly. “Like the doctor said would probably happen, when you opted to  _ not  _ stay an extra day under observation?” 

Alex’s eyes widened. 

“Oh. You know what? That  _ actually _ makes so much sense…” he grimaced, ducking into another fit of painful coughs. “I just progressively felt more and more like shit since I’ve been back.”

“And you didn’t think to go back to get it checked out?” 

“I mean, it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad four days ago. It just nosedived Sunday night. Which, I’d like to add, was part of the reason I was late today. I slept through all of my alarms.” 

“ _ You _ ? Slept through an alarm?” Ben furrowed his brows in disbelief. 

“I slept through  _ three _ . Plus the calls and the texts.” he yawned, stretching his sore muscles before perching on a seat in the row in front of where he and Ben had sat in the very back. “And then I couldn’t find my keys so I went looking and realized that Tom missed his alarm too, because he was up late revising for an exam and a presentation or something like that. I couldn’t just  _ leave  _ him. So I drove him over to school before I came here.” 

“What a saint.” 

“I know, right? I think that should suffice as reason enough to let me leave earlier.” he chuckled. But it sounded more tired than amused. That was when the older spy really started to take things in and notice. 

The tight lines and the sickish pallor had  _ nothing  _ on the rings of dark circles under the younger spy’s eyes. He looked more than a little tired. He looked  _ exhausted _ . Exhausted and stressed while trying to cover it all up with his characteristic youthful sass. 

“You know, I’m sure if you told Jones she’d let you leave so as long as you stop by the med bay.” 

“I suppose-” Alex sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “But I still have some of the post-mission report to finish up anyway. And I told Tom I’d pick him up after school so I’ll probably just stay around until three-ish anyway.” 

“You’re obviously sick, Al. You shouldn’t overwork yourself.” 

“I know. It’s just...Before I went on that mission, the one in America. Jones  _ constantly  _ reminded me about this meeting day, and how it was really important I show up. I dunno-it just felt really  _ weird _ ? Really excessive. I mean, I understand it’s a big deal, but it just felt...odd. And I’ve fucked up the ‘showing up’ part already, so I feel like I should stay. Lay low a bit. At least for a little bit. And if I can get through until three-ish without bumping into him,  _ great.  _ If not…” he shrugged. “Like he said, we’re bound to meet eventually. I’m just hoping it won’t be today. And I don’t want to push my luck with-”

“Ah, Agent Daniels! Good to see you again.”

“Director Matthews. Sir.” Ben stood, accepting the proffered handshake.

“I’ve actually gotten to start reading a little bit of your proposal on joint SAS and MI6 intelligence transfer and sharing. Very good work from what I’ve read. I’d like to schedule a time to further discuss the possibilities you’ve noted.”

“Thank you, sir. I look forward to it.” the two nodded at each other before Matthews turned, giving Alex a amiable pat on the back, giving him a jovial shake, all smiles against the younger spy’s barely held back wince of pain.

“And  _ you  _ must be Agent Rider.”

“Yes, sir.” Alex replied evenly, inconspicuously moving out from under the man’s grasp.

“It’s good to meet you, young man-” he held out a hand which Alex accepted. 

“I’ve heard so much about you-all good things I assure you.” he chuckled indulgently. Alex smiled benignly back. 

“Now I heard from Ms. Jones that you’ve only recently returned from a mission, a  _ dangerous  _ one at that.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“In that case, feel free to head home. From what she’s told me, you’re technically still on health leave. I appreciate you coming out today as it is. Consider yourself officially dismissed for the day.” he gave Alex another hearty slap on the on the back before waving a goodbye and leading the remaining agents out of the room.

“Oh-” the two snapped their attention back to the door as Matthews returned, only half stepping in. 

“And Mr. Rider-”

“Yes, sir?” 

“I would like to see you in my office tomorrow, say one? There  _ are  _ some things we need to discuss. About your status and all.” 

“Oh...um. That’s fine. One in your office.” 

“Good man.” he gave Alex a final nod before disappearing back to where he was headed. 

“ _ That  _ doesn’t sound promising…” 

Alex squeezed his eyes shut with a hiss. “It really  _ doesn’t _ . Does it…?” he opened them back up to stare into the empty space in front of him. 

“But on the bright side, you don’t have to ask Jones. You should go get some rest, Al. You look like shit, to be honest.”

“ _ Thanks.”  _ he drawled, rolling his eyes. 

“Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go drown myself in some antibiotics and cough syrup.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter but it just kept getting longer and longer so I've decided to break it up into two. Chapter 7 will OFFICIALLY be the last chapter.

“Shouldn’t you be in a meeting right now?” 

“Should you be in class?” 

“It’s twelve. _I’m_ at lunch.”

“I’m about to leave, actually.” 

“Already...?”

The spy let out a sigh, rubbing tiredly at his eyes sending the paper bag in his hands crinkling. “Yeah. The meeting ended around eleven and I got the green light to clock out for the day.” 

“Oh. That’s good to hear. Get some sleep, yeah? Show those dark circles who’s boss.” 

“Wow.” 

“But anyway, yeah. Definitely get some sleep. I forgot I’ve got practice after school today, so don’t worry about coming back around.”

“You sure?” 

“Positive. I’ll grab some takeaway on the way back as well. Any cravings?” 

“Not really.”

“Tacos it is. I’ll see you around seven ish. If you’re awake of course. Which you really should be because you _shouldn’t_ take-you better be planning on eating something first if you’re planning on taking anything! I hear that bag.”

“You and Daniels both-” there was an odd pause. “I swear to god. I’m not _that_ chaotic.”

“Cause between pushing one-thirty-seven in morning rush hour traffic to taking medication on an empty stomach, it’s _definitely_ the meds that cross the line into chaos...” 

“I just can’t win, can I?” 

“Oh, shut _up_. Bloody drama queen you are.” he didn’t miss the quiet chuckle on Alex’s end. 

“Just painkillers. Promise.” 

“Pardon?!” Tom choked out. There was a flurry of movement on the other end. 

“I _know_ you’re not about to get back out on the road on the type of ‘painkillers’ _you’ve_ been prescribed.” 

“ _Just say no!”_ A new voice shouted. There was a flurry of movement and laughter.

“Am I on _speaker_ …?!” 

“ _You are now!_ ” another new voice answered. “ _Be the change-OW! The fuck was that for?!”_

“But, in all honesty-you best sit your arse _down_ before I drown you with that cola, _Micycle-_ ” he heard Tom pause to wince. “Sorry- _sorry._ Slipped my mind. Too early.” 

“ _Pfff. Sorry. Not funny…_ ” Tom froze at the familiar voice. 

“Wait. Am _I_ on speaker?” 

“You are.”

“...Daniels?” 

“Harris.” Ben answered humoredly. 

“Um… where was I- _Oh_ . Oh yeah. So _are_ you actually going to drive home?”

“He is absolutely _not_ .” the older spy snickered at the victorious whooping on Tom’s end. “Lucky for him, I need to pop over to camp tomorrow and our _wonderful_ medic just _happens_ to live close by. I’m crashing for a night and getting picked up in the morning, just a heads up.” 

“Oh, cool cool. I’ve said before, but I’ll be back around seven I think. I’ll pick something up for dinner on the way.” 

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve still got some errands left to run, so I can give you a lift back and grab some grub. Dinner’s on me.” 

“Ooo. Much appreciated, Daniels.” 

“Right. We’ll leave you lads to lunch. Make good choices and stay in school and all that fun stuff.” 

There was a chorus of _“will do_ !”s and “ _bye_ s” behind Tom’s “ta” as the blond tapped ‘end’. 

“You know, sometimes I forget that you’re so young.”

“Is my sarcasm and all around recklessness not enough for you?” Alex huffed in mock affront as he dodged the pen Ben had been twiddling with. 

“ _Don’t_ be an arse.You know what I mean.”

The blond grimaced, shrugging nonchalantly continuing to spin lazy circles in his seat in the small empty office. 

“It is what it is. I think we _all_ knew I wasn’t going to be able to go back to school and all that. It’s honestly just better this way.”

“Have you ever _wanted_ to though? At all? Even a little bit?” 

“I mean, in the beginning when I was _fourteen_ , yeah. Of course. But then again, I didn’t really have a career goal in mind, so I guess in a way things mostly worked out. I’ve got a steady-ish job, and more autonomy that I would have without getting emancipated. And it’s not like I’m being _forced_ or _blackmailed_ anymore. And with my skill set it would have been joining this side or slipping into the other side, so… This way I won’t have to worry about getting offed by my employers around the time I retire, if I get to retirement that is. But you get my point.”

The older spy sat in stunned silence, staring warily from his seat on top the empty office desk. 

“You know what, I’m going to pretend like that wasn’t the most _terrifyingly_ self-aware thing I’ve heard come out of a teenager’s mouth. And _that’s_ coming from an uncle of three teenage nephews.” 

“It’s _fine_ , Ben. I’m sure it’s just the old age setting in.” 

" _Hey_!” 

Alex snickered, dodging the man’s half-hearted kick. 

“It’s okay though! I saw this article from the NHS about how twenty-five’s the new twenty one.”

“I’m twenty- _four_!” 

“You say that, but the stress lines say thirty. You really _should_ invest some personal time in-” he dodged again “-in some guided meditation or something. All that stress is gonna get to you eventually.” he nodded in mock solemnity. 

“I take it back. _Christ_ . You’re worse than all three of my nephews put together. We’re leaving. _Now_.” he hopped off the table. 

“Stress lines, Ben. Stress lines. And on the topic of your nephews, I’m hurt I’ve never met them before. I feel like we could all be great friends.” 

“Yeah, no. No way in the deep frozen depths of _hell_ am I _ever_ introducing all of you at once. The potential _chaos-”_ he shuddered. 

“They’re difficult as they are. I don’t need them to learn anything else from the teenage James Bond. My sister would _murder_ me.” 

“And they say _I’m_ the drama queen… The _audacity_.” 

“I’m leaving. Goodbye.”

“Aww, Ben. Don’t be mean. I’m _sick,_ remember?” 

“You’ll be _comatose_ real soon.”

“Actually, that sounds pretty good right about now. Do you think you could-”

* * *

“I mean, you weren't _wrong_ . I _was_ military for a time. And SI really is part of defense, I suppose. And as far as anyone else knows, I think telling your friends that we're military is fine. More like military affiliated, but that's just technicalities."

"Are you allowed to tell people? Now that you're not SAS anymore?" 

"Tell them that I _was_?" 

"Yeah." 

Ben considered a moment, merging smoothly into the turn lane. "I could. Yeah. It's not entirely against the rules to mention I'm SIS either. More about safety than anything else really. Especially with my clearance."

"Oh."

"But it's a little different in Alex's case” he stepped off the brake, turning wide onto the bridge. “I don’t really know too much about it, but there was some sort of loophole that let him sign on even though he’s still a minor. Something about his emancipated status and prior experience? So technically speaking, it’s not _illegal_ anymore, but it’s not exactly something that needs to be known by anyone who doesn’t need to know.”

“Was that why he was allowed to go through selection? One of the guys on my team said he had an uncle who tried to get through selection. We got interested, so we googled it. Apparently the minimum is 18?”

“It is. Poor bloke. Did he make it?” 

“Nah. Said he got binned during the first round.” 

Ben winced in sympathy. 

“Yeah, no. selection is straight hell. _Literally_ hell on earth for about six-seven weeks.” Tom smirked. “That’s what Alex said as well, when he came back.”

“I’m not surprised. It just so happens that he went through selection under the same Sargeant that was there when K-unit was going through selection. Which is actually one of the reasons why Alex keeps his pass under wraps.”

“I thought he _actually_ passed?” 

“Oh, he did. He _definitely_ passed from his own merit. That’s not the problem. The _problem_ is that he was allowed to fake his age for it. So _technically_ speaking, ‘Cub’ passed selection at age 18. It's what's written in RHQ's copy of his file.“

“Seriously?!” 

The spy nodded. “Which is why I said that I’m not surprised it was hellish. Because the Sergeant _definitely_ knows how to count, and the ages wouldn’t match up. But there wasn’t really anything he could do because the exception came from the top of command. So, if anything, Alex probably went through the entirety of selection under extra scrutiny. Can’t imagine how fun _that_ must have been.” 

“Yikes. Makes sense though. He looked like he’d _seen_ some things when he came back. He went semi-comatose for a good day or two.”

“Sounds about right.” he took a left off the bridge, in a bark of genuine amusement.

“But now he’s a certified senior agent _and_ a semi-active ‘private’. But I’m pretty sure his rank for SI is what lets him fill upper level command positions occasionally. Like lectures and workshops. Same for in 6. He has the clearance to actually _be on_ new recruit seminars and stuff like that as well.”

“That’s _actually_ insane. He’s not even turned _17_.” Tom’s brows bunched in shocked realization. 

“Trust me. You’re not the only one who thinks that. There’s a _reason_ why he’s been cleared as a senior agent. So back to your question, not illegal, just personally frowned upon. It’s easier that way the longer you’ve been in and the higher in clearance you get because the situations get more and more sensitive.”

Tom nodded in silence, absorbing the newfound information. 

“But on an unrelated note, you said you wanted tacos?” 

“Oh, yeah. Tacos sound good.” he startled out, zoning back in. 

“We’ll stop by that taco place near that corner convenience store.”

“Honestly, I’m _high key_ _starving_ right now. I’m down for _anything_ ”

* * *

“I’ll put Alex’s tacos in the- _umm…_ ” Tom froze mid sentence.

“what the hell…?” Ben stared in genuine confusion at the bizarre sight. Alex blinked owlishly back at the two perplexed faces, rooted to the spot in a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of fleece pajama pants with his neck craned to compensate for his head being almost _completely_ inside the freezer. He had one hand on the refrigerator door handle and a tight grasp on the freezer’s as well looking about ready to try to decapitate himself via the freezer door. 

“You’re up.” Tom bounced back with an attempted smile. 

“I am.” Alex answered right back in groggy monotone. 

“But um... _Why_ are you up?” 

“Yeah, Why are-” Ben blinked out of his daze. “-actually, _how_ are you awake right now?”

“So it _was_ the tea, wasn’t it!” Alex narrowed his eyes in disapproval, not moving from his position. 

“All legal things. Like the medication you were prescribed. You know, the one you’ve been ignoring?” Ben tossed back wryly. 

“You _drugged_ my _tea_ ! _Rude!_ ”

“You weren’t going to take it otherwise. I did what was needed. And also, what the _hell_ are you doing…?” 

The blond slid back into his original blank expression. 

“Self care.” 

“Your head is _literally_ inside the freezer.”

“It’s a modified process.” 

Ben quirked a brow. 

“Okay. How about this. _Why_ are you partaking in this ‘self care’ right now, at-” he checked his watch. “-ten past seven PM?” 

“I finished filling out _all_ of the paperwork for the ‘status allowance request’ thirty minutes ago”

“ _All_ of it?! I made you that tea around _four_! You said you were gonna space it out!”

“ _All_ of it.” he nodded somberly. “All seventy three pages.” 

“And _then_?” 

“And then I washed up and got in bed.”

“Okay…?” 

“And then I got a call from Nathan.” 

“Oh...?” 

“And I _really_ debated on not answering, but he kept calling so I answered.” he grimaced. “Which was an absolutely _shit_ decision on my part.” 

“And what’d he say?” 

“He said that Jones wanted to let me know that my meeting with Matthews tomorrow has been _‘upgraded’.”_

“Upgraded to a…?”

“To a full on ‘internal review’ _board meeting_ . At _eight_ .” Alex hissed morosely, closing and opening the freezer door on his head, eyes closed with a tight grimace. “Do me a favor and just fucking kill me now, _please._ ”

“O _kay_. Alright. That’s enough of that.” Ben strode over and yanked the blond out of the freezer, slapping his hand off the handle before shutting it closed. 

“six hours, Ben. _Six_. You remember the last time.”

“I do.” the spy grimaced. 

“But that was under Blunt. I’m sure they won’t keep you _that_ long with Matthews being new and all.” 

“And the _questions_ . Jesus. So...so _dumb_ . So stupid. All of them. They were all so _fucking_ stupid.” he mourned, pointedly ignoring the comment. 

“Hey. Eyes over here.” Ben gave him a none too gentle shake. “It’s gonna be fine. You just need some food and sleep.” 

“I _can’t_ ”

“Why the hell not?” 

“All prospects of sleep imploded the moment ‘internal review’ was mentioned. I’m not going to be able to fall asleep for another couple of hours and by then waking up is going to feel like shit, so the more bearable of the two would be to just stay awake.”

“First of all, _no_ . To _all_ of that. And secondly, no. That’s a fucking _awful_ idea. And I _know_ it’s an awful idea because you’ve done this before! At the last IR board meeting!” 

“Hmm… a new tradition it is.”

“Sit down. At least have some dinner before you go sulk."

"It's _called_ reevaluating my career choices, _thank you_."

"We can commiserate with tacos. _Go_." He gently led the blond out of the kitchen and towards the small dining room, motioning for Tom to follow with the boxes.

"I'm saying this as your partner, and friend-" he prodded Alex into a chair. "You need to eat _something_ before your meds. No food, no meds. No meds, I'm going to slip Dr. Alred a note." 

"You _wouldn_ 't." He hissed in shock, _visibly_ affronted. 

"Try me. Like I said. I've got three nephews. I know when to yield to a higher power." 

Tom set a box in front of Alex before handing Ben his own, plopping down in his seat before even registering the disapproving glare. 

"Is this betrayal?"

"Look, I'm not the one to judge, but I'm also _not_ the one who was trying to decapitate myself via freezer door. So maybe eating _something_ could be the first step to figuring out what the _fuck_ is going on in your brain, and how to fix it." 

Ben grunted in agreementt, pulling up a chair next to the blond who sighed, slumping in his seat resigning himself to just do what he was told. 

"Didn't you have a meeting today? What's tomorrow's meeting for?" Tom asked casually, picking up a taco at random.

"Today's was more of an 'all agents' sort of meeting for the senior rostered agents. Tomorrow's is…actually I have no idea what tomorrow's meeting's about." 

He nudged the blond.

"I have no clue. Matthews just said he wanted to meet one on one."

"Matthews?" 

"New head of 6." Ben answered before taking a bite. 

"Oh. Thanks. So your new boss wants a personal meeting but you don't know why?" 

"Not really a _personal_ meeting _now_ , is it?" He muttered. 

"Oh yeah, you said something about a board meeting?"

"An _internal review_ board meeting." Ben corrected. 

"What's that?"

"A new level of the hell that is British intelligence." Alex took a bite."can't speak for 5, but any meeting with IR at 6 is an experience in and of itself." 

"Pretty spot on, actually." The older spy nodded thoughtfully. 

"And it's probably because Matthews is new."

"In civilian terms, please."

"IR-" Alex started warily."they're not exactly _completely_ SIS, and they're not a part of Internal Affairs either. They operate inside the organization as a whole, but they're not subject to 6's authority. So technically speaking, they're above the head and deputy head, but slightly to the side not directly above."

"Which means the head and deputy head can't interfere with them but IR can't either unless there's definite Intel of a cause or if an investigation is launched by the head or deputy." Ben added standing. "Drinks?" 

"Coke please." Tom nodded in agreement. 

"I was in a meeting a few months ago, actually. Before Blunt posted his retirement. He wanted to air everything out before he left, around the time I was pretty set on my decision to fully sign on."

"He called a review on himself?"

The spy nodded.

"Especially because Jones would be staying as w-thanks." He took a can to hand to Tom before grateful accepting his own.

"Since Jones would be staying. But at this point, my working for them wasn't really that much of a secret anymore. And he was pardoned, if I'm not mistaken. Him and Jones both."

"They were. By the foreign secretary and the PM."

"Which was...fine. I was more surprised by the fact that Blunt just up and decided to retire out of nowhere."

"True. And the fact that Jones got skipped over." 

"But anyway, it ended up being a little over six hours, and that's _not_ including breaks." Tom was positive he saw Alex's eye twitch.

"Basically, they take a timeframe, around when Ian was KIA to the day the meeting was opened in this case. And then they pick apart any and every last piece of information they have during that span of time to check for any ethical or legal breaches."

"And they summon anyone working for 6 who happened to be mentioned in that time period." Ben added. 

"You skim through entire post missions briefs and then they ask that you re-brief them on what you can remember without the written briefs. And while _that_ happens, they'll question you. At one point they had a question for every sentence I read for an entire _page_." His knuckles clenched white around the bright red can at the memory. "And it goes on and on until they deem that they've got everything they need." 

"So who opened up the meeting?"

"That's actually a really good question…" Ben nodded. "Did they say? Or…" 

"Didn't mention who it was. Just said that it was changed to an IR meeting. Maybe Jones?"

"That _would_ make the most sense… I mean, Matthews wouldn't just open an IR meeting on day _one_. Would he…? He'd have no reason to. At least, as far as I know…"

Either way, it's going to be a goddamn nightmare. _That's_ for sure."

* * *

"Al? Alex?"

"Hmmm…?"

"It's six thirty mate."

" _Fuck_." Ben grimaced at the muffled curse from his vantage point leaning against the door frame. Alex sat up, shoving the papers he'd been resting on roughly aside, attempting to scrub the grogginess from his face completely unaware of the odd sleeve imprint running down the right side of his face. 

" _Damn it_ !" He hissed, sitting up dazedly. "Why?! _Why?!"_

 _"_ Good morning to you too. How was not sleeping?"

"Shit. It was absolute _shit_. Thanks for asking." The younger spy took a deep breath before getting up, groaning at the full body soreness. 

"Snake's going to be here in about thirty forty minutes. Just thought I should give you a heads up." 

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks. I-" he stretched into the yawn. "I should get ready." 

"Meeting's at eight, right?" 

Alex nodded, pushing his seat in retidying the papers he'd pushed aside.

"I'm going to head over early. Maybe figure out what this is all about so I can actually _prepare_ myself." 

"Sounds like a plan. I'll start the coffee." 

"Thanks."

* * *

"What's the occasion?" 

"I've been _summoned_." Snake quirked a brow at the vaguely foreboding answer, watching the blond lethargically tie the thin oxblood and gold striped tie, smoothing the crisp white collar of the button up down over the tie before retucking it into the blue black trousers. 

"I'm surprised you're not going for a full head to toe black. Thought that was the MO for SIS?" The medic teased, handing over the matching suit jacket. "You've got a nice blue black _and_ and a patterned tie _and_ the brown leather oxfords." 

"Smithers sprang an intervention on me a few months ago. Something about looking like I was consistently at a funeral. We went suit shopping. He had _opinions_ ." The spy chuckled at the memory, shrugging on the jacket. "That and apparently the suit that I had looked like a cross between an uncomfortable school uniform and a 40 something year olds cheap disposable wedding costume. _His_ words, not mine. Spent almost a third of my reparitive pay that day. Suits. Button ups. Socks. Shoes. I'm pretty sure he snuck in a waistcoat or two. Something about it being classic and necessary." He shrugged. 

"Suits and ties and Aston Martins-"

"You can stop right there. Ben already tells me every chance he gets." 

"I think it's the hair that really brings everything together. A veritable James Bond."

"Jones told me that it needed to be handled. Told me to use some gel or spray or _something_." 

"It's a little trippy, to be honest. The side coif thing makes you look older but younger too. Like if I didn't know you, I'd assume you were anywhere from maybe 17-18 to 24-25." 

"Vague is good." He grabbed the keys off of the table before leaning over to grab the dark grey wool long coat where it lay draped over the back of one of the dining room chairs. "help yourself to more coffee or breakfast. I'm going to head out." 

"Drive safe." 

"You too."

\--------

"Come in." 

He pushed the door open a sliver and slipped in before shutting it quietly behind him. 

"Morning." 

Morning. You're here early. The meeting is set for 8." 

"I know. I just-i was wondering if you could tell me the purpose." 

"The purpose?" Jones glanced up from the small stack of pages she'd been reading through.

"Of the meeting. Because up until about six last night, I was just supposed to meet with Matthews one on one.hesaid he wanted to discuss my status? And then I get a call saying it's been upgraded to an IR meeting with no explanation."

Ms. Jones put her reading glasses down, giving Alex her full attention. 

"Did I do something wrong…?" 

"No, you haven't. This meeting is an IR not a disciplinary one. Matthews has elected to follow in Blunt's actions and call a meeting to bring the records up to date. Especially with your… _special_ circumstance. No reason to be concerned." 

"Oh…" 

"But with that, I will warn you. I doubt it will be a short meeting. The man has a reputation for being _very_ thorough." 

Alex groaned at the sudden memories that came flooding back. "So if you haven't eaten breakfast yet, I'd go do so now while you still have time." 

He nodded, mumbling out an affirmative before striding back to the door. 

"Oh, and Alex?" 

"Yes, ma'am?" He came to a halt, looking over his shoulder.

"If it's anything like the last time, remember to really _consider_ your words. they matter a lot more than they did before." 

He left the way he came in without another second of hesitation, on a new mission to get his hands on another cup piping hot coffee.


	7. Chapter 7

"Would you mind if-" 

Alex took a glance back. 

"It's fine." He nodded, shooting the agent a curt smile. "I'm headed down too." 

The older spy quirked a questioning brow. 

"IR meeting." 

"Yikes…" he motioned for the small group to follow, stepping into the lift. "You all probably won't be covering IR in training for another month or so, but I suppose it's good to be knowledgeable." The ginger grimaced. "The main reason Tellerson is so damn fastidious about the 'Ethics and Protocols' course is honestly for your sakes." 

Alex nodded. Jones hadn't spared him from having to take a few  _ actual _ courses. He knew  _ exactly  _ who Tellerson was and just how  _ fun _ of an instructor he was. 

"In my defense-" the blond countered wryly. "It's more of a  _ Blunt  _ situation. I haven't actually  _ done  _ anything." 

"Oh. How...unfortunate…"

Alex nodded slowly, face pinched in lines of revamped stress and fatigue. "Best of luck to you, then. And Daniels too, I suppose…?" The older agent grimaced in sympathy, giving the younger a pat on the back as the elevator came to a stop with a  _ ding _ .

"Lucky for him, he's not-" he met a familiar set of eyes from across the sleek atrium near the imposing granite and black lacquered entrance way of the IR board chamber, a seldom used and mostly avoided  _ obnoxiously  _ movie esque room that held  _ nothing  _ but bad memories. 

"Well damn…" He muttered, letting out a pained sigh. Of  _ course _ this would happen. He couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. 

"Try to stay alive, yeah? It's gonna be a right  _ pain  _ to try to find a stand in for the simulations next week." 

Alex rolled his eyes. "I dunno, Andrews. My brain says  _ yes _ , but my heart says  _ cardiac arrest _ . Spice things up a little. You know how these meetings go." 

" _ Hilarious _ . Really." The man shot back. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have a hunt to be on. For 'Navigations'. Corridor 5b and all that." He added in dry jest.

Alex couldn't help but chuckle in pitying amusement. Oh, he  _ definitely  _ remembered corridor 5b…

"Whatever you do, don't look up." He divulged to the bewildered group before giving the older agent a curt wave. He turned on his heels before striding towards the incongruous scene.

"Why are you here…?"

"There was a change of plans." Ben answered evenly.

"Ms. Jones told me you'd be around soon."

"Has she gone in already as well?" 

"Neither of them have come down yet, but that's not important. I need to tell you something." He pulled the blond further off toward the side. 

"Listen to me, Alex. I'm being dead serious right now, alright?" He lowered his voice. 

The blond nodded stiffly, fighting the sudden urge to tense up. Apprehension be damned, this was  _ obviously  _ meant to be a secret, and a secret it would stay. No one else needed to know. 

"They're going to try their  _ damn  _ hardest to get under your skin because that's what Matthews  _ wants _ . So- no.  _ Shut up- _ so you keep your mouth shut and your head down until they ask and you keep the answers short. Tell them exactly what you know and what you did, no trying to explain your actions. He's after something, Alex. He might not be Blunt, but we don't know what he's willing to sacrifice for the 'greater good', so  _ please _ watch yourself, alright? You know I'm going to be doing _ everything _ I can to help, and so is Jones but there's only so much we can do if IR and Matthews vote against you."

"I-yeah…" he tapered off, all too suddenly aware of just how precarious the situation really was. And it succeeded in sending the scant amount of confidence in a tailspin, leaving him reeling.

"Wait- _ wait. _ Vote against me in  _ what _ …?"

The two froze as the elevator  _ dinged.  _ They didn't even need to look to see who it was. The sudden silence in the atrium spoke for itself. 

"In _what,_ _Ben_?!" The blond hissed hurriedly.

" _ This _ . It's a competency enquiry."

"Are you  _ fucking _ serious?!" Alex hissed.

" _ Yes.  _ Now  _ move _ ." He half marched half dragged the younger away from the impending danger straight into the belly of the beast praying to whoever was listening that the blond would get a grip and pull himself together  _ soon  _ because if the look of dazed horror was  _ not  _ breeding much confidence, one of the things he and Jones had banked on. Confidence and the blond's  _ astounding  _ luck of the devil. 

And with one down and one growing all the more unstable, all he could do was walk Alex over to his *designated front and center seat before giving him one last sympathy squeeze on the shoulder, doubling back to his own seat in the row behind.

\----

Alex realized three important things in succession, all  _ equally  _ perturbing in their own way. 

Jones had neglected to address Daniels, passing the older spy without so much as a second glance. At least, it was what registered from what he could see from his peripheral. 

This  _ hadn't  _ been something Ben had been expected, which meant that  _ somewhere  _ along the line, the two really  _ had  _ gotten together to discuss the harrowing situation. That there  _ may  _ have actually been some sort of plan of attack between the two. 

And last but most certainly the  _ most  _ concerning thing he realized was that Jones had ignored him too, and so had Matthews. No greeting or vague gestures. Not even a glance over in his direction. They strode right past him to the front, settling an icy chill in his veins, ripping the air from his lungs. 

The insidious panic continued to grow, running rampant around the chaotic state of his mind. 

He needed… He needed to calm down and  _ breathe _ because remaining confidence be damned, the wave of lightheaded numbness was hitting him like a fucking  _ humvee _ and the meeting hadn't even begun. 

_ Christ _ . What the hell was happening? Why the hell was he so scared? He hadn't done anything wrong. He was a bonafide agent, not 6's blackmailed and expendable guard dog anymore. He'd filled out the paperwork and completed the training. And if those two actions alone weren't enough, he'd shown his competency and loyalty over and  _ over  _ again mission after mission. 

The suspicion was unwarranted. But that was how the SI he knew operated, one unwarranted decision after another. He wasn't fooling himself. He had absolutely  _ no  _ expectations that would change even with new power. And  _ that  _ in and of itself made the future feel all the more bleak.

_ His  _ future.

What had he told the older spy? That option two would have been fully going rogue? But it was too late for him to switch sides. He'd committed. Staked his life on his job working for the 'good guys', piling on the enemies. He wouldn't survive long. 

But, as irrational as it sounded, he knew he would survive  _ much  _ longer rogue than he would getting cut off and sent back to the wreckage that was his life before 6. He  _ couldn _ 't. It had been nearly three years, and 'normalcy' was intangible at this point. And truthfully speaking, he knew he wouldn't  _ ever  _ be able to live with himself if someone happened to get hurt or god forbid,  _ die  _ in the crossfire. A warranted fear in his line of work with everything he'd accomplished.

_ No _ . 

He needed to get a grip and  _ think _ , because failure just  _ wasn't  _ an option. He was absolutely  _ not  _ about to give 6  _ another  _ opportunity. Not with his life as the gambling chip.

So the moment he heard the heavy doors shut, he took one last deep breath before raising his mental and emotional walls boxing in the fear and wiping away all traces of expressions and emotions, slipping on the stone cold mask he'd come to perfect. 

And then he stood, without a shred of hesitation, prompted by one of the examiners, confidently pledging his complete and honest truth in the answers to come.

"Let it be known that case number 22-OXV, in regards to the competency of Agent Alexander Rider and subsequent sustaining of his status. The time is now 08:05. Let us begin." 

\----

Three and a half hours had seen the meeting through the entirety of the list of the younger spy's missions, all the way through his most recent one. They'd asked s few familiar questions and allowed for Matthews to add a few new ones here and there, which had been simultaneously nerve wracking and _ bloody  _ irritating to say the least. So he was _ understandably _ confused when they suddenly came full circle seemingly back to the very beginning. Like the past three and a half hours hadn't happened

"Agent Rider, I see that this isn't your first IR meeting." The examiner in the middle stated, looking up from the open file in front of her. 

He leaned forward, bringing the small mic closer. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Do you remember the date of the last one?" 

He hesitated, mentally trudging through the weeks. 

"The third Wednesday of September, if I'm not mistaken." 

The examiner nodded, jotting down a note. 

"And do you recall what the purpose of the meeting was assertained to be?"

"To the best of my knowledge, the two years of unauthorized work I had done for SIS under Director Blunt and deputy director Jones. I was denied clearance to view the notes post meeting."

"I see…" She quirked a brow, jotting a longer note down. "Are you aware of the purpose of  _ today's  _ meeting?" 

"No ma'am."

"Were you aware this meeting would be taking place?" 

"No ma'am. Up until six last evening I was under the impression that I would be meeting with Director Matthews one on one today at one." 

"So you were not informed about any sort of IR meeting?" 

"Yes ma'am." 

She turned to Matthews, who sat off to the side next to Jones. 

"Director Matthews, I see that you submitted an official request with Internal Review almost three weeks prior to today's date. Were  _ you  _ aware that Agent Rider was unaware of the meeting?"

_ Three weeks _ ago…? 

That meant that Jones had  _ undoubtably  _ known. Known and  _ purposefully  _ kept him in the dark about it all. But hadn't Ben said that they were on his side? Did the older spy  _ really  _ know or was it all just an attempt at trying to make him feel better?

The list of questions just kept getting longer and longer...

"Yes. I was aware that Agent Rider would be incognizant to today's meeting."

"Is there a reason for keeping Agent Rider in the dark?" 

"Agent Rider had only recently returned from a mission abroad and he was still on his post mission health leave which, as per protocol disallows any unnecessary summons save for any sort of emergency situations. I didn't think that he would show up to the orientation. I had planned to tell him about the IR meeting in the one on one meeting we had scheduled. That was my personal scheduling mistake. I had mistakenly thought I had scheduled  _ this  _ meeting for Thursday." 

"Deputy director Jones, this mission that Matthews mentioned-" she broke off, pulling a file from under the one she had open. "The joint mission with the CIA in Langley, this mission was  _ technic _ ally under your authorization as Alan Blunt had already posted his retirement at the time. Do you accept said responsibility?" 

"Yes, I do. The Langley mission was authorized by myself alone." 

"And by that point you had already made aquaintance with Matthews?"

"Yes. We had established communication both in person and through the secure server." 

"And was he informed of the mission?" 

"Yes."

"Completely? Was he shown the official file?" 

"Yes, he was given a copy." 

"Director Matthews, at that point, were you aware of Agent Rider's... _ unique _ status?"

"Yes, I was. I was also given a copy of the post meeting notes Agent Rider had mentioned." 

"Did that influence your decision to open an investigatory meeting?"

"Partially."

"Please clarify." 

"I was aware of Agent Rider long before I was picked as Director Blunt's successor. His...existence is surprisingly decently know within the upper levels of defense and intelligence. And I had gotten skim through some of the senior level agents' files. I read through Rider's before I read the meeting notes and there were some points of... _ concern _ ." 

"Points of concern?"

"Specifically in the personal notes that Director Blunt had submitted before the meeting. Points 6a through 6c in particular, if you have a copy of the notes with you now." The five examiners rummaged for the file from the sizable stacks, leaving Alex to sit in tense silence fully registering what the man had said.

That there were  _ multiple  _ points of concern listed on the notes he _ still _ wasn't allowed to view. That Matthews actually _ did _ have something on him. But he just _ couldn't _ figure it out. What the  _ fuck _ had he done wrong? Wrong enough to warrant _ three  _ whole points?

"Points 6a through 6c, you said?" The examiner beside the first lady spoke up. He flipped the page over.

"Yes."

"Indicated symptoms of mid level PTSD, inability and or refusal to communicate with designated psychiatrists and other miscellaneous medical health professionals, and notable decrease in self preservation with an increase in high risk behaviors during active duty. Are these the points you are speaking of?"

"Yes." 

The examiner turned to Alex. 

"You've said you have not been cleared to view the notes, Agent Rider, but were you aware that Director Blunt has harbored these kinds of concerns in regards to you?" 

"No, sir. I was not." 

"Had he ever discussed any sort of concerns with you in regards to your mental health?"

"No, we never discussed anything relating to that." 

"Do you have any ideas as to why he would have made a special note about it?"

"I do not." 

"Director Matthews, do _ you _ personally have any sort of concerns regarding Agent Rider other than those that Director Blunt and Deputy Director Jones noted?"

"Yes, I do." 

"Please, explain further." 

"I realize that Agent Rider has _ officially _ joined not too long ago of his own accord, but he _ is _ still a minor. That is something that cannot be overlooked." Alex barely held the flinch as the man glance over. "A minor with nothing more than an _ unofficial  _ GCSE grade from the spotty tutoring he'd managed to receive. He may have made the personal decision to join, but with his age and schooling, I  _ cannot _ think of it as an entirely _ fair _ choice. He's  _ sixteen _ for goodness sakes!" 

As much as he wanted to, Alex found himself unable to _commit_ to disagree. Matthews has a point. Anyone who had read his file would be able to realize how… _Uneven_ the playing field had been when Alex had made his choice. It was an easy choice because he didn't have many other choices. His hands had been tied tight from the moment Ian's body was found. 

"And then there was the whole SCORPIA debacle. He went _ rogue _ . He tried to assassinate one of his bosses. All at the age of what, fourteen? Fifteen?" 

Alex actually flinched. It was a low blow, but again, his hands were tied. He had no excuse. 

"I acknowledge that he is _ immensely _ skilled. A prodigy even, with so much potential with his coming years. But what's to say he won't go rogue again?" 

_ That  _ had him absolutely _ floored _ , heartbeat picking up almost a little painfully too fast. He could hear the blood rush in his ears. It was an altogether terrible but logical point. He _ had _ gone rogue. He _ had _ tried, and failed, to get Jones. So in all honesty, they really _ couldn't _ be sure he wouldn't try to do it again. Especially now that he was so much more equipped with the skills to do so, and the clearance to get to Intel that would even be  _ worth _ going rogue for. It was all _ too _ ideal of a situation to ignore the possibility.

"Speaking of skills, I see that the SAS is listed twice in Agent Rider's file." The examiner at the very left end spoke up. "Deputy Director Jones, could you please explain why that is?" 

"As stated in the previous IR meeting, Agent Rider was temporarily sent to the SAS camp in Brecon Beacons before his first mission. He was paired with a then trainee unit, later officially named K-unit. He returned to Beacons last November taking a temporary leave of action with SI to take part in selection following the appropriate protocol with backing from Director Blunt." 

"But it hasn't been _ completely _ according to protocol, had it?" He didn't give Jones time to respond, choosing to turn his attention to the blond instead. "Agent Rider, when you filled out the paperwork for selection, were you specifically given permission to answer untruthfully or give incorrect information?" 

"I did not need to fill out any sort of paperwork at all. I was told that my file could come for the physical evaluation and biographical data." 

"So any paperwork obtained by RHQ was _ not _ of your own accord, it was completed by somebody else?" 

"Yes, sir. Someone of equal or higher clearance than I had." 

"Are you aware that the date of birth within your file here at Vauxhall differs from the file in RHQ?"

"...I  _ most definitely _ was-am not." 

"And you weren't aware through the entirety of selection?" 

"Yes." 

"But, in the end you managed to pass selection." 

"Yes, sir." 

"You opted out of full time active duty, giving up the option of being a member of an actual unit, but you _ did  _ train as a member of a unit. Is that correct?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Your file says you would have been deemed the tactician and sniper of the unit post selection." The man put the paper down, leveling the blond with a solemn stare. "Would you say that your time with SCORPIA aided you?" 

They weren't even being objective anymore. No more polite round about. They wanted specific answers, ones Alex _ really _ wished he didn't have. 

But he did.

"Yes. It did " he wasn't fooling anyone. He hadn't been allowed a gun before he officially joined. He was talented, but he wasn't _ that _ talented. There was no way he would have been getting the scored he had gotten from the nonexistent training he'd gotten from 6.  _ They _ hadn't been the ones who taught him how to handle guns. Everything he'd learned in terms of technique he'd learned at Malagosto. It was no wonder his precision and skills were so notable. It was just something he couldn't manage to ignore, as much as he wanted to.

"Agent Daniels-" the focus changed again in whiplash speed. "You were a member of K-Unit when Agent Rider was first sent." 

"Yes, sir." 

"And you've worked with him on numerous occasions after transferring into SIS." 

"That is correct." 

“Would you say that he is a competent agent?” 

“Yes. Beyond competent I would say. He’s averted failure and civilian casualties in  _ several _ separate missions with his tactical skill and ability to quickly adapt and rapidly problem solve in real-time under pressure."

"Returning to the points Director Matthews pointed out, point 6c in particular, what would  _ you _ say about Agent Rider's level of self preservation?" 

The spy hesitated. The question was already precipitous as it was. The answer would need to be _ delicate _ .

"Personally speaking, I would say that it isn't much higher than the other senior agents, especially with his special forces background. A little more _ daring _ maybe."

"You stated, regarding Agent Rider's competency, that he is skillful in adaptation and problem solving under pressure to avoid failure and or civilian casualties. To what extent would that be?" 

"Pardon? I'm not sure I quite understand…" 

"To what extent is Agent Rider willing to go to to avoid a mission failure?"

Oh… there it was, the subtle attempt to corner him. He wouldn't be safe either way. Alex _ was _ reckless at times. He has his moments of what could only be described as a lack of self preservation. Suicidal almost. But it did the job, oftentimes the sole reason of success. A high cost both Blunt and Jones had been willing to overlook for success. It had only gotten worse as the months passed, mission after mission. Especially more recently with the added skills he'd picked up during selection. But admitting that would only strengthen Matthews' point. Denying would color the younger spy as sub par and unfit as a senior agent. The medical file would corroborate the skewed judgement…

"To the best of his abilities..." 

"And would that include being 'daring'?" 

"Yes. When need be." 

"Deputy Director Jones, do you agree with Director Matthews' concern in regards to Agent Rider?"

"I cannot say that I do." She paused "Agent Rider has proven his loyalty time and time again, not only with SIS but with the SAS not to mention his work with several of our allies. The most recent mission with our American allies proves this."

It was, weirdly enough, seemingly the end of _ that _ particular argument. But it didn't offer much in terms of relief for the younger spy. 

No.

While Jones' neutrality was something to be expected, especially within the first few days of Matthews take over, the mixed messages only served to put him on edge. He was considered a loyal agent under Blunt. An _ actual  _ one. He'd earned that much. But Blunt wasn't here anymore, and as a deputy, there was only so much that Jones could do for him in terms of protection. Especially with Matthews having such… _ Strong _ opinions so early on. She may have won this battle, but the outcome of the way was anywhere _ close _ to being seen. He wasn't safe yet.

"And in terms of Agent Rider's refusal to comply with his psychiatrist, it should be noted that after much review, Vauxhall's medical operations office has found his current psychiatrist unfit for working with the individuals they had been tasked with; mostly higher level agents. That psychiatrist had been removed from their post for several ethical violations." 

In all honesty, while it wasn't too long ago, but it had _ completely _ slipped his mind in the grand scheme of the chaos that was his most recent mission and the following injuries and all around fucked up condition it had left him in. 

But it was the most reassuring thing he'd heard since the meeting had started four hours ago. 

"Yes, that notice had been sent over to IR. it will be attached to the final notes for this meeting." The first examiner nodded. "speaking of the final notes, I do believe we've gotten enough information to satisfy the secondary review. So at this time the IR board will take any last questions." 

The room was silent. 

"Director Matthews? Deputy director Jones?"

"I have no further questions " Jones spoke first.

"I concur." Matthews nodded stiffly. 

"In that case, the time is now 12:27. The Internal Review Board officially calls case 22-OXV's hearing to a close. Part two will commence independently at the IR's discretion." And with that the hearing was over, leaving Alex slumped in his seat feeling _ beyond _ exhausted, nauseous and a little lightheaded wondering what the _ fuck _ had just happened. Had he won? Had he lost? 

He knew it would be at least a solid week before he would find out, but he couldn't even venture a guess this time around like he had with Blunt. This time he was on uncharted ground. He didn't know Matthews. Didn't know what the man's motives were. What he did know was that, for some reason or another, the man seemed so adamantly against the blond. It was a dysfunctional situation. Matthews wanted him off the field. He _ himself _ wanted to stay. To keep his job, because there weren't many options for him to fall back on. He'd come too far to find and go back to his old life. Going back was not an option.

And for the first time in a  _ very _ long time, he felt so  _ so _ out of his depth, he couldn't even bring himself to pretend that he was okay, because he wasn't. The unease and stress of not knowing, not being in control compounded by the fact that he hasn't even gotten too fully recover before getting thrown into _ this _ hellish situation with nothing but some antibiotics and painkillers, it was all starting to get to him, and  _ fast.  _

"Rider." He froze. " _ Agent _ Rider, I should say." He picked his head up from where he'd rested it in his hands, propped up by the elbows on the table. 

He couldn't help the sudden wave of ferocious rage that emerged through the exhaustion and anxiety, pushing through the nausea and everything else the painkillers had kept at bay before they wore off almost an entire hour prior. 

But he wasn't _ completely _ gone yet. The rage hasn't reached his control. So contrary to what he  _ wanted _ to do, what his blood was practically hissing at home to do, he stayed put, hands to himself mouth zipped. 

He wasn't about to give the man any more ammo. 

"I mean this in all honesty, whatever happens-" Matthews didn't drop the eye contact, words measured and professional. "This was nothing personal." 

And in that moment, Alex knew. Things were going to get _ dangerous. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep your eyes peeled for part 2 of the series: "The Enemy of my Enemy"


End file.
